Imperial Night (Ashes of Empire, #3) Page 18

  No one could deny Loxias was a skilled orator. His deep voice, his reasonable tone, and his measured cadences resonated, both physically and intellectually. He might not fire up a secular crowd at a political event, but his style suited the Brethren, and Gwenneth saw many heads nod with approval as he spoke.

  “Sadly, Gwenneth has rejected our calls to take this abbey in a new direction, even though I know many of you, perhaps a majority, know it must be done. The status quo is no longer good enough for the Order and Lyonesse. Just as our proud Navy launched the first of a new fleet so it can protect Lyonesse’s future, we must launch ourselves on a new path.” He paused for dramatic effect, eyes roaming over the assembly and across the video displays. “I, therefore, ask the assembled Brethren judge Abbess Gwenneth’s leadership of our community. Many among us, enough for a formal review, are no longer confident she is acting in the Order’s best interests.”

  Loxias sat with a solemn expression on his face, but those watching closely wouldn’t fail to notice the triumphant glimmer in his eyes. He glanced at Gwenneth.

  “As per the Rule, we await your rebuttal, Abbess.”

  She stood and, as Loxias did, surveyed the audience, video feeds included.

  “Brethren, I’ve been your leader for almost a quarter-century. I daresay you know me better than I know myself in many respects, and you’ve witnessed every moment of my time as abbess. You know everything I do is to make sure the Order thrives as it serves the people of the Republic of Lyonesse and that it will continue to thrive for the ages. I won’t see humanity reunited under a single banner. But I will make sure the Order is on the right path to prepare for that glorious day.”

  Gwenneth glanced at Loxias, imitating his earlier gesture.

  “Our honorable chief administrator spoke eloquently just now, and the points he raised are compelling.” She was pleased to see a faint air of suspicion cross his face and smiled at him. “But I submit the following before calling a vote on whether the Brethren have lost confidence in me as your abbess. First, I propose that the Lyonesse Abbey proclaim itself the motherhouse of the Order of the Void. Then I propose we hold a vote to appoint the Summus Abbatissa who will lead both the Order and this abbey until such a time as we establish a second one. At that point, she will relinquish leadership of the Lyonesse Abbey and focus solely on the Order.”

  A rustle of robes filled the air as Brethren turned to each other in surprise, though none raised their voices. Gwenneth stepped forward, pivoted on her heels, and faced the senior leadership, many of whom seemed stunned at her unexpected words.

  “What say you?”

  One after the other, in order of ascending seniority, the abbey’s most influential sisters and friars bowed their heads by way of assent, until only Loxias remained. He gave Gwenneth a hard stare before signifying his agreement. However, Katarin, who headed the abbey’s military chaplaincy division, couldn’t repress a smile of delight.

  Gwenneth turned toward the assembly again.

  “By the grace of the Almighty, I declare Lyonesse the new home of the Order of the Void, and this abbey its motherhouse. Let it be written in the annals and proclaimed across the galaxy.”

  She raised her hands and over a thousand voices intoned, “The Void giveth, the Void taketh away, blessed be the Void.”

  When they faded away, a grizzled sister sitting in one of the two front rows reserved for elders rose to be recognized.

  “Brethren,” she said in a surprisingly loud voice when Gwenneth gave her the nod. “I nominate Sister Gwenneth as the new Summus Abbatissa.”

  An equally weathered friar across the aisle from her stood. “I second the nomination.”

  Loxias, face set in a neutral expression, also climbed to his feet. Presiding over the election of an abbess was the chief administrator’s responsibility.

  “Do you accept the nomination, Sister Gwenneth?”

  “I do.”

  “Are there any other nominations?” He glanced at the abbey’s senior leaders, eyes briefly resting on Sister Keleos, who gave him an almost imperceptible shake of the head. When none were forthcoming, Loxias said, “Sister Gwenneth is hereby elected Summus Abbatissa of the Order and abbess of the Lyonesse Abbey by acclamation.”

  He bowed formally at Gwenneth, though his eyes told her he didn’t believe for a single second that she’d converted to the Lindisfarne Brethren viewpoint. But it didn’t matter. The immediate crisis was averted, though there would be another one when Loxias and his followers realized she would never involve the Order in the republic’s politics, let alone challenge the Defense Force’s custody of the Knowledge Vault.

  “I hereby withdraw my request for a leadership review.”

  — 26 —

  ––––––––

  “For someone who runs an entire religious order as Summus Abbatissa, you don’t seem any different. No special robes or brooches?” Morane held out his hands to greet Gwenneth as she stepped out of her aircar.

  “We don’t do ostentatious, and my status is essentially unchanged since my flock is no bigger than it was before today’s assembly.” She gave him a radiant smile. “I can thank you for the result, however.”

  “Not me, but Sun Tzu.” Morane led her up the steps and into the house. “Give me your bag and head for the solarium. Emma is making us celebratory gin and tonics.”

  When he, Reyes, and Gwenneth were sitting in their usual chairs, glass in hand, facing a Vanquish Bay shimmering under the setting sun, the latter said, “You know this isn’t over by a long shot.”

  “I’d be a fool if I thought otherwise, but you drained the antimatter from Loxias’ hyperdrives. He expected a show of stubborn defiance. Instead, you agreed and amplified, letting him coast with no way of boosting his cause. I’m sure Loxias lost more than a few supporters the moment you laid out your proposals.”

  “No doubt. But he’ll get them back once they realize I won’t be attending weekly cabinet meetings or visiting Government House regularly.”

  A mysterious smile softened Morane’s craggy features.

  “I think we can arrange things and make you appear like an honored friend of the powerful and sit at their tables without actually having you interfere in secular governance.”

  “I should mislead the Brethren?”

  “Would it be misleading if you attended the president’s weekly cabinet breakfast once a month? We invite community leaders regularly. The only reason you’ve never attended is because you never accepted the invitation.”

  “I was making a point.” Gwenneth gave Morane a mildly exasperated glare. “Render unto Caesar and all that.”

  “Don’t I know it. My attempts at enticing you out of the abbey over the years were for naught.” He gave her an annoyed glare of his own. “Just play along. I know you can do that. From now on, you’ll be the honored guest every last Thursday of the month. Enjoy the meal, chat with the secretaries. Exchange suspicious looks with Brigid DeCarde. Have fun. The food is pretty good too. Then go home knowing Loxias and his crew saw nothing more than their abbess breaking bread with the most powerful in the republic. There’s no misleading if they believe what they want. Simply say that whatever you heard came under the banner of cabinet confidence and keep silent.”

  Gwenneth took a sip of her drink, eyes on the bay’s dark waters, then said, “Very well. I can play that game in the interests of keeping the peace.”

  “Excellent. Expect a formal invitation by the end of the week.”

  “Thank you, Jonas. Though I think Loxias will eventually see through the ploy when he notices nothing much has changed in the way we interact with the government.”

  “It’s called buying time so you can figure out another way of bleeding off your friars’ excess energy and ambition. Perhaps you should set up a men-only priory or sub-abbey or whatever you want to call it on Isolde and charge it with opening the first permanent settlement
. Brigid came up with the idea, by the way.”

  An amused chortle escaped Gwenneth’s lips.

  “Oh, dear. I can’t see many of them volunteering to hack a new house out of the wilderness, separated from the rest of us by the expanse of the Middle Sea. My flock isn’t exactly known for its pioneering spirit. But I’ll propose it nonetheless, out of sheer devilment. Who knows? I might find a few dozen takers; in which case I’ll speak with the Home Secretary at one of those breakfasts and offer the abbey’s help with efforts to open Isolde. But enough about my problems. How is your retirement plan to create a Defense Force Command and Staff College progressing?”

  “Surprisingly well. The university finally accepted our proposal we build it next to the Lannion campus so we can share facilities and personnel. The plague ships seem to have muted those among the faculty who dislike anyone in a uniform.”

  Morane didn’t mention the latest incursion, which bypassed Outer Picket. That news was still embargoed at his orders until the Navy examined the wreckage and adjusted its dispositions. Nor did he tell Gwenneth progress on developing an antiviral was going nowhere. The Barbarian Plague had stumped the finest minds in the republic.

  **

  “She’s visiting with President Morane at his private residence again.” Sister Keleos dropped into an empty chair at Loxias’ table in a private corner of the refectory. The evening meal was still more than an hour away, and the Lindisfarne Brethren leaders had the hall to themselves. “He’s probably behind her unexpectedly giving in to our demands.”

  Loxias nodded.

  “Morane is a shrewd operator, as he proved before and during his time in office, and he won’t want us involved in secular governance, let alone taking charge of the Knowledge Vault. Which means Gwenneth is playing us for fools. This isn’t over yet.”

  “Then you’d better find another way of ousting her. We looked like right fools during that assembly, after the lobbying we did to convince folks it was time for an orderly transfer of power.”

  Though Keleos kept any hint of emotion from coloring her words, everyone at the table knew she expected to become the next abbess and was therefore thoroughly annoyed Gwenneth not only didn’t step down but became Summus Abbatissa instead.

  “I will. A shame we couldn’t make our move today, but everyone will see soon enough what a sham her proclamation was. We’ve waited this long. A few months more won’t make a difference. Once Morane leaves office, things will change. I’ll talk to my non-Brethren friends and see how we can build support on the outside now that we’re formally the motherhouse.”

  “Making an end-run on Gwenneth and Morane’s little machinations, eh?” Sandor gave him a skeptical glance. “Now that she’s wise to our plans, it could be harder than you think.”

  “Perhaps.” Loxias scratched his salt-and-pepper beard. “But here’s something Gwenneth might not realize. As Summus Abbatissa, she can amend the Rule if enough Brethren vote in favor and said amendments don’t violate Canon Law. Canon Law doesn’t cover a lot of the Order’s current policies and practices. For instance, abbesses ruling unchecked by a Council of Elder Brethren, or appointing only sisters as heads of abbeys and priories.”

  “The latter practice exists,” Keleos said, “because Brethren leading houses are those with a strong talent, for obvious reasons, which rules out friars. That’s reality. Besides, the Order was women only for the first half of its history, pretty much until we needed a fleet of starships under our control, which means most consider it an unwritten clause in the Rule. As for a council? I can’t think of a single abbey with one in living memory.”

  A sly smile split Loxias’ face.

  “Other than Lindisfarne, you mean? It had the ruling council, the one governing the entire Order.”

  “Oh.”

  “Oh, indeed. Surely you didn’t think I’d be without a backup plan. Since this is now the motherhouse, Gwenneth can hardly resist calls for a Council of Elder Brethren based on a venerable precedent. And as for friars with insufficient talent, if we can convince Stearn Roget his future lies with us, he’ll be the perfect candidate for our first prior and then abbot. Gwenneth’s victory will be short-lived. In fact, I think this outcome could be even better for us in the long run.”

  **

  Roget sensed Seled Hyson’s vicious mind lashing out unconsciously on the other side of the door before it opened. He steeled himself for another bout of migraine while embarking on one of the meditation exercises Sister Mirjam taught him as a way of developing defenses. When Hyson entered the interview room, the mental assault intensified. She gave Roget her usual lewd wink and blew him a kiss. For a fraction of a second, he felt an unaccustomed surge of rage at her behavior, and something in his head slammed shut like a starship airlock.

  He no longer picked up Hyson’s roiling emotions, and a wave of indescribable relief washed over him. It must have shown in his face because Hyson gave him a curious glance as she sat across from them. That glance caught Amelia’s attention, and she gave him a brief, but searching stare, then a nod of understanding. For the first time since Roget started accompanying Amelia to her counseling sessions, he felt no fatigue when their hour with Hyson ended, let alone his usual migraine.

  When the next prisoner entered for his turn with Amelia, Roget felt nothing, to his immense relief. Nor did he sense the emotions of the third, though he was tempted to open that mental airlock just a wee bit and see if he could close it at will. As they exited the Supermax compound at midday after a three-session morning that usually left Roget semi-catatonic, Amelia gave him a smile of encouragement.

  “You finally did it, didn’t you?”

  He nodded.

  “Yes. But don’t ask me how. All I remember is getting pissed at Seled’s crudeness when she entered, and that was it. A mental shield sprang up from who knows where. I didn’t dare crack it even a bit in case I couldn’t raise it fully again. I cannot express my relief at no longer dealing with the madness consuming those deranged souls.”

  “Excellent. Mirjam was hoping you’d experience a breakthrough of this sort.”

  “Does that mean I no longer need to sit in on your counseling sessions?”

  “You don’t enjoy my company?” Amelia asked in a playful tone.

  “You’re delightful. The prisoners, not so much.”

  “I’m afraid that until we know for sure you can raise and lower your mental shields intuitively in any given situation, you’re stuck with me, and you’ll be seeing more of dear Seled and her fellow sufferers.”

  Roget let out a sad grunt. “Figures.”

  “Did you give any more thought about taking vows and joining us? Rikkard mentioned you’ve been sitting in on classes with the postulants and going through the recommended reading list.”

  “Yes,” he replied after a moment of hesitation. “Part of me enjoys the priory’s peaceful environment, and the abbey’s as well. I lived a turbulent existence until I landed on Lyonesse, and I now realize it was so even before I boarded Antelope. It might be possible I left Scotia to escape and not because of a desire for adventure.”

  He tapped the side of his head with an extended index finger.

  “That dratted sixth sense in there is probably to blame.”

  “Quite likely. Most of those with a latent but strong talent don’t live tranquil lives before coming to us, and yours is stronger than any I’ve seen. You could do a lot worse than become a friar and live among people who understand. Now that Sister Gwenneth has declared us the Order’s motherhouse, we’ll see a lot of new opportunities for friars and those sisters who aren’t interested in the traditional monastic disciplines.”

  Roget gave her a curious look.

  “Why does it matter? An abbey is an abbey, and since we don’t know whether any others survive out there,” he jerked a thumb at the cerulean sky, “Lyonesse might not be mothering a damned thing.”

  �
�The motherhouse may change our Rule, provided those changes don’t affect Canon Law. It means we can adapt to our new circumstances and take a more active part in the republic’s future. One day Lyonesse will venture out into the galaxy again and reunite humanity. The Order of the Void will go with those starships and plant fresh seeds on human worlds devastated by the empire’s collapse.”

  “Sounds romantic, though I doubt either of us will live long enough to witness that.”

  “Nor will the next few generations of Brethren. Yet our role is preparing the Order for that day by strengthening it and ensuring it has a say in the republic’s future. Since Gwenneth is now the Summus Abbatissa, the Order’s supreme abbess, she can do whatever is necessary.”

  “Still seems a little strange to me. Nothing’s changed. There are no new abbeys, let alone Void houses on other worlds.”

  “That’s because you don’t see this as one of us. Everything has changed from our point of view. By becoming the new Lindisfarne, we’re free of the past because we acknowledge we’re the last survivors. And that makes us the first of a reborn Order of the Void with everything it implies.”

  A crooked smile softened Roget’s craggy face. “You certainly seem enthusiastic about it.”

  “I’m one of the many who’ve been waiting for the day we became the Order’s motherhouse and charted a new future. If you take vows, you could be part of that future.” She gave him a sideways glance. “And you could put your talent to good use. There’s so much more than just shielding your mind from others. We teach advanced techniques to those who forsake the secular world.”

  “What advanced techniques?”